The Telephone
Say, for example, you slip into a secured apartment complex behind a resident and head to the elevators.
You step into the elevator and hit "31" because it's the top floor. Exiting the elevator, you scan the hallway for the Exit signs and amble over to the first one you see. Opening it you see the "No Roof Access" sign and your business with it concludes, but the other one is just down the hall and it's more receptive to your advances.
You run up two flights of stairs to the roof and you find a door. The first thing you notice is that the handle has a rope tied to it, presumably because someone likes to leave the door open sometimes, which is good. But not today, which is bad. Today the door is padlocked, and yes, the lock is latched in all the way. However the actual... um... hingey-thing that the lock is attached with/through (that connects the door to the doorframe and keeps it from opening, right?) wasn't installed properly, or rather, they used the wrong kind of hingey-thing because the bolts that hold it to the door are right there, just begging you to unscrew them. You know they want it, they want it so bad.
And so do you.
You don't mess with them, of course, because that's just exactly on the other side of that line. The line between "get the hell out of here, kid," and "the cops are on their way." You're probably already on the other side of that line, of course, but until you do something willfully breaky, you can probably talk your way out of it if you're friendly and cool about it all.
But you'd sure like to just open that door, oh yes.
You give it one last longing stare, hoping that maybe it will open itself, but it doesn't so you start back down the stairs. Now on your way back down, you stop off at the 32nd floor because the elevator doesn't go there. It's clean, but empty, and there is a faint chlorine smell in the air. You follow the corridor and find that there is, in fact, a special elevator that goes there, and just beyond that is the pool. It's empty and you start thinking about coming back with a bathing suit.
You're about to leave because there doesn't appear to be anything else going on (and really, no bathing suit) when you hear a telephone start to ring, just a little further down the hall. You think about ignoring it, but weird public phone ringing in an empty floor? Sure, that's worth a look.
You proceed a little further down the hallway until the corridor opens up and you see the phone. It's red (like the Bat-Phone!) and mounted to the wall and next to it is a sign reading (something like) "Picking up this phone will automatically dial 911."
You have that split-second where you weigh the meaning of the sign against the ringing phone in your head. If picking it up calls 911, then you probably don't want any truck with that. But if it's already ringing, do the same rules apply? Is it the polite younger cousin of an alarm? Or the most diabolical trap ever? Is it 911 calling you because you're somewhere outside of your pen and you don't belong here in the world? Are they hoping to stall you until someone arrives to escort you somewhere else? Maybe back to your own pen, but maybe to theirs instead.
You decide you don't need any of this action and you high-tail it out of there. As you pass the bank of special elevators, you punch the call button and maybe, just maybe if the door opened immediately you would jump in. But it doesn't and you haven't even broken stride on your way back to the stairwell because the special elevators are a trap. If The Man is closing in, that's what he probably expects you to do anyway, so it's good to make appearances and let him think you're playing it by the book so he doesn't have to work too hard or strain himself. By the time he figures out you're playing a different game and you're not planning on just delivering yourself to him, well, hopefully you're gone by then.
Trying to be quick but still casual but also silent, you go down past the 31st floor and exit the stairwell at 30. The door makes a terrific noise, which is not terrific.
Quickly making your way to the elevators, you try to act natural and relax. Because, of course, if security is really checking out the 32nd floor than their elevator is going up and won't stop for you here on 30. There is almost no chance at all of the elevator doors opening and there being, like, four big security guards inside it who will grab you, right?
I guess you're right.
Inside the elevator you hit "2" because you don't want to be dropped right in the middle of the elevator lobby because, though it's been a little while now, those four big security guards who weren't in the car up on 30 just might be waiting for a car on the ground floor. The ride from 30 to 2 is slower than you'd like and even a little nerve-wracking, but eventually the elevator dings and as the door opens you hear a voice and your heart lurches into your esophagus.
"Second. Floor."
It's just the recorded voice of the elevator, so trying to look natural you quickly scoop up all of the internal organs that have spilled out onto the floor and you make your way over to the non-roof accessing stairwell and easily drop down to the ground floor and saunter out past the security guard who is probably actually busy going somewhere else and who probably doesn't really give two shits about you, but you're keyed up enough that it feels like you've made some great escape anyway.
And honestly, as long as you feel like you've made The Great Escape, well, that's all that matters tonight.
All of which is to say, Adventure Tuesday was good. I found access to two roofs downtown. I gazed fondly at them but didn't quite have large enough balls to get out onto either. (One was... weird, the other was just a really loud door.)
This time, anyway.
I did find some things and I saw some stuff, though. I should be able to post more tonight, including a few pics.
You step into the elevator and hit "31" because it's the top floor. Exiting the elevator, you scan the hallway for the Exit signs and amble over to the first one you see. Opening it you see the "No Roof Access" sign and your business with it concludes, but the other one is just down the hall and it's more receptive to your advances.
You run up two flights of stairs to the roof and you find a door. The first thing you notice is that the handle has a rope tied to it, presumably because someone likes to leave the door open sometimes, which is good. But not today, which is bad. Today the door is padlocked, and yes, the lock is latched in all the way. However the actual... um... hingey-thing that the lock is attached with/through (that connects the door to the doorframe and keeps it from opening, right?) wasn't installed properly, or rather, they used the wrong kind of hingey-thing because the bolts that hold it to the door are right there, just begging you to unscrew them. You know they want it, they want it so bad.
And so do you.
You don't mess with them, of course, because that's just exactly on the other side of that line. The line between "get the hell out of here, kid," and "the cops are on their way." You're probably already on the other side of that line, of course, but until you do something willfully breaky, you can probably talk your way out of it if you're friendly and cool about it all.
But you'd sure like to just open that door, oh yes.
You give it one last longing stare, hoping that maybe it will open itself, but it doesn't so you start back down the stairs. Now on your way back down, you stop off at the 32nd floor because the elevator doesn't go there. It's clean, but empty, and there is a faint chlorine smell in the air. You follow the corridor and find that there is, in fact, a special elevator that goes there, and just beyond that is the pool. It's empty and you start thinking about coming back with a bathing suit.
You're about to leave because there doesn't appear to be anything else going on (and really, no bathing suit) when you hear a telephone start to ring, just a little further down the hall. You think about ignoring it, but weird public phone ringing in an empty floor? Sure, that's worth a look.
You proceed a little further down the hallway until the corridor opens up and you see the phone. It's red (like the Bat-Phone!) and mounted to the wall and next to it is a sign reading (something like) "Picking up this phone will automatically dial 911."
You have that split-second where you weigh the meaning of the sign against the ringing phone in your head. If picking it up calls 911, then you probably don't want any truck with that. But if it's already ringing, do the same rules apply? Is it the polite younger cousin of an alarm? Or the most diabolical trap ever? Is it 911 calling you because you're somewhere outside of your pen and you don't belong here in the world? Are they hoping to stall you until someone arrives to escort you somewhere else? Maybe back to your own pen, but maybe to theirs instead.
You decide you don't need any of this action and you high-tail it out of there. As you pass the bank of special elevators, you punch the call button and maybe, just maybe if the door opened immediately you would jump in. But it doesn't and you haven't even broken stride on your way back to the stairwell because the special elevators are a trap. If The Man is closing in, that's what he probably expects you to do anyway, so it's good to make appearances and let him think you're playing it by the book so he doesn't have to work too hard or strain himself. By the time he figures out you're playing a different game and you're not planning on just delivering yourself to him, well, hopefully you're gone by then.
Trying to be quick but still casual but also silent, you go down past the 31st floor and exit the stairwell at 30. The door makes a terrific noise, which is not terrific.
Quickly making your way to the elevators, you try to act natural and relax. Because, of course, if security is really checking out the 32nd floor than their elevator is going up and won't stop for you here on 30. There is almost no chance at all of the elevator doors opening and there being, like, four big security guards inside it who will grab you, right?
I guess you're right.
Inside the elevator you hit "2" because you don't want to be dropped right in the middle of the elevator lobby because, though it's been a little while now, those four big security guards who weren't in the car up on 30 just might be waiting for a car on the ground floor. The ride from 30 to 2 is slower than you'd like and even a little nerve-wracking, but eventually the elevator dings and as the door opens you hear a voice and your heart lurches into your esophagus.
"Second. Floor."
It's just the recorded voice of the elevator, so trying to look natural you quickly scoop up all of the internal organs that have spilled out onto the floor and you make your way over to the non-roof accessing stairwell and easily drop down to the ground floor and saunter out past the security guard who is probably actually busy going somewhere else and who probably doesn't really give two shits about you, but you're keyed up enough that it feels like you've made some great escape anyway.
And honestly, as long as you feel like you've made The Great Escape, well, that's all that matters tonight.
All of which is to say, Adventure Tuesday was good. I found access to two roofs downtown. I gazed fondly at them but didn't quite have large enough balls to get out onto either. (One was... weird, the other was just a really loud door.)
This time, anyway.
I did find some things and I saw some stuff, though. I should be able to post more tonight, including a few pics.